


Once To Bring Balance

by eastwynds



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastwynds/pseuds/eastwynds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the training of Luke Skywalker, Rey has grown confident in her powers. But when she faces Kylo Ren in combat again, letting go of her anger proves harder than she expected. As both of them are torn between light and darkness, they realize they might have more in common than they imagined... and that they're both treading on dangerous ground if they explore their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once To Bring Balance

It's not the first time she has fought Kylo Ren. It's not the first time they've stared each other down over clashing lightsabers, testing one another's will, daring one another to falter. And an unsettling certainty, a deep chill in her bones, tells her that this is unlikely to be the last time, either.

It should be, she tells herself. _It should be._ He's stronger than he was, but so is she – much stronger. She's confident that she can hold him back. After all, she matched him before, when she was still frightened and untrained and scarcely coming into her powers. She could have killed him then, and she could still kill him now. Sometimes she's convinced that she's fated to do it, even if it would mean giving in to the knot of fierce hatred that she carries for him, even if it would mean yielding to that knife-sharp desire for revenge that she's worked so long to fight back. Kylo Ren deserves everything he has coming to him, she tells herself, and far worse, for the suffering he's caused. He's a monster. And Han Solo's son, whoever _he_ was, is long dead already.

Kylo Ren still fights erratically, even when he's uninjured, even when he should surely have been well-prepared for combat. Whenever he locks eyes with her, his emotions blaze around him like a halo, as raw and unpredictable as his jagged blade. It unsettles her to watch his face, and she struggles not to avert her eyes from his dark glare as he lashes at her with that sickening fury. She told him that his need for an imposing disguise screamed weakness, and her words must have wounded his pride – they must have cut him deeply enough to make him throw his mask aside before he lit his saber to fight her. She wonders now if that was a mistake; this might have been easier if she couldn't see his face. And yet, some part of her needs to see his eyes if the moment does come, if she brings him to his knees and holds her glowing blade to his throat. _Revenge._

Sometimes, she imagines dragging her blade through him slowly, watching his body slump back, watching the life draining from his eyes – _just like he did to his father._ But not now, no, not now – she shoves the wretched image away, and her mind reaches for stillness instead, searching desperately for the well of calming light that becomes all too elusive in his presence. She doubles her defenses, barricading her thoughts against him. She can still sense him, and she can feel his rage battering at the edges of her consciousness, trying to find a way in. She deflects his blows from her mind as carefully as she blocks his blade from her body. _Concentrate. Focus. Don't let him in._

He's trying to protect his thoughts from her too, but not enough. His control slips whenever she has him at a disadvantage in the duel, and his internal defenses wane and flicker like a damaged shield. She pauses when she feels it, and she hesitates for a split-second, her attention drawn to his weakness. _Conflict... self-doubt... fear..._ For a brief instant, she can read all the thoughts he's trying to bury. But her lapse in concentration proves to be a grievous error that he exploits immediately. She's distracted just long enough to let him knock her weapon out of her hand, and then she's suddenly defenseless, standing in front of him with no blade, her hands empty.

She could easily call the saber straight back to her. It's a skill she's now mastered completely – she need only _think_ it and her weapon would already be alight in her hand. And yet...she doesn't. Instead, she disarms him in return. As he stands over her triumphantly, still savouring her mistake, she catches him off guard and strikes her empty hand across his wrist. She conjures an image quickly and shoves it toward him, crumpling it hard against his mind's defenses just as she delivers her blow: she pictures his gloved palm opening, black-clad fingers parting, his weapon dropping harmlessly from his grasp.

It works. He opens his hand with an angry growl, and three red flares flicker out as he drops his saber. She kicks it away from him before it hits the ground.

Kylo Ren staggers back a step and glares at her, his dark hair falling wild around his face, his eyes blazing with fury. She still doesn't call her own saber back to her, and he makes no move to retrieve his weapon either. She breathes out slowly, exhaling relief that his imminent death no longer glows in her hands. Silently, she wills herself again to let go of her anger. She doesn't trust herself – not here, not with him. Not completely.

“No more weapons,” she says at last, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Just us, now.”

She thinks she sees him flinch, hearing the echo of his own words to her all that time ago. But he recovers his control quickly, and his eyes narrow with contempt. “You are even more foolish than I thought, then,” he snarls.

Without taking his eyes off her, he slowly raises his hands. He peels off the black gloves, throwing them dramatically onto to the floor before he stretches his pale fingers out toward her face. Suddenly, her body tenses with a creeping doubt – has she made another mistake? – and fear seizes her. Dark images come pouring into her head, and she recoils with dread from the indistinct visions. Flashes of pain... absolute terror... a slow, agonizing death... visions of a torture she's only heard about. _Force lightning._

She tries to hide her shudder, to keep her face proud and defiant, but it's too late. She feels him latching on to her fear, probing it, his mind ensnaring hers. He's seen into her thoughts.

“I could do it,” he tells her coldly. “Don't make me.”

She fights back against his mental snare, shakes it out of her head, then follows it back as he withdraws it. She continues to follow it resolutely, right to the edge of his guarded mind. He resists her intrusion, but not before she hears the whisper of his uncertainty: _I...can't._

“You can't!” she gasps, her voice high and incredulous. “You _can't_ do it... you never have. You don't even know how, do you?”

She feels anger twisting in him like a dagger, feels his wave of self-loathing at her mocking words. She can sense him trying to slam the door on her, trying to shove her out of his mind.

“I've never had occasion to try,” he corrects her, his jaw clenching. He takes a big step forward. His fingers crawl toward her face again, so close that she can feel the heat building in his hand. He leans in even closer, his hand shaking as he brushes her forehead. “I told you. I could, and I will. I am more than strong enough. Don't make me.”

She takes a deep breath and tightens her fist, then reaches up and knocks his hand away from her face. Her elbow cuffs him across the chin as she brings her other arm up sharply. “Get off,” she spits through her teeth, shoving him backwards with both hands. “Get away from me.”

Before he can react, she grabs him by the arm. Muscle memory takes control of her limbs as she twists his wrist roughly behind him, just as she did to so many would-be pickpockets back on Jakku. As he staggers sideways, she swings her leg up and around to kick him hard in the ribs. He's taken completely by surprise, and he falls to his knees with a scream of rage.

She feels white-hot, violent anger explode from him then, and it pours over her like molten lead. He springs back to his feet and throws himself at her, swinging his fists in manic, uncontrolled fury. She dodges him, ducking left and right as she scrambles backwards, shielding her face from his blows.

Then they run out of space and she hits a wall, his body crashing into hers with sheer momentum. The back of her head makes contact with cold metal, and a blinding pain shoots through her skull. Stars come streaming into her peripheral vision, a nauseating dizziness seizing her as she struggles to stay conscious. And then... everything goes black.

As she feels herself sinking into unconsciousness, she casts around anxiously for something, anything to anchor her mind to, anything to claw her way back. She searches once more for that cool, perfect stream of soothing focus, for a pure well of still light, like the one she found that fateful day when they duelled in the snow. The day that Han died... the day she scarred Kylo Ren's face. That day, she knows, she made her first true draw from the Force.

But this time, the stillness refuses to come.

She does find something else, though, as she wills her way back up from the haze. It crawls at the edges of her mind at first, almost imperceptible. Then it grows into a low, mesmerizing hum deep in her chest, a powerful vibration of energy that feels just as ancient and infinite. It's sickly-sweet and strong, warm and intoxicating and... _dark_.

That first draw she made in the snow felt like a clear, cold drink through a straw – like pristine water tumbling over rocks, like a long, calming breath of fresh air. This is... different. She takes it in like smoke; it chokes her at first, but then it hits her like a drug, and she feels a dusky heat gathering in her veins, new power crackling under her skin.

Her eyes snap open and she staggers forward, shocked. She might well have lost her balance had Kylo Ren not been holding her in place, and she's suddenly aware of his hands still gripping her shoulders. He's pinning her against the wall, and as her vision clears, she sees his burning stare fixed firmly on her face.

“What – is – that?” she gasps. Her fingers knot into the fabric of his cloak. “What are you doing to me?”

He says nothing, just keeps staring like he's looking right through her. His eyes are glistening, his lips slightly parted, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He doesn't release her.

She tries again to focus, to steady herself... but she still feels it. It's lingering there at the fringes of her consciousness – that dark heady smoke, that sweet, seductive power coiling at the edges of her mind and willing her to touch it once more. And she wants to, she realizes. She wants to more than anything. She wants desperately to give in, to just let it –

“No!” she screams out loud, shoving Kylo Ren away.

“Stop!” he screams at the same time. He lets go, recoiling from her. His body folds over as he clutches his hands to his chest like he's been wounded. “Stop it!” he shrieks again.

She suddenly feels sick, bracing herself against the wall. “What's... what's the matter with you?” she gasps weakly. “I... I didn't do anything–”

“You!” He hisses the word in anguish, pointing a finger toward her without looking at her. “You...you test me! You test...my strength. But you will... not... succeed.”

“What?” She still can't breathe properly, and she can scarcely manage a hoarse whisper. “What are you _talking_ about?”

 He studies her suspiciously as he rights himself, catching his breath, drawing himself back up to his full height. He shoves his dark hair out of his eyes, then straightens his cloak. She stares him down defiantly.

“What did you feel?” he asks her at last.

He doesn't sound like himself. His voice wavers with uncertainty, and she can sense his anger building again, hot fury bubbling beneath a fragile veneer of self-control in his mind. His guard is completely down. She knows she could easily reach into his mind if she wanted to... but she holds back. She doesn't say anything.

“Answer me!” he growls. “What did you feel, Rey?”

His mind lashes into hers, the snare biting in like barbed wire, and she winces, reproaching herself for her momentary lack of caution. She feels him probing her mind for her confession, digging painfully through her shattered defenses, and she gives the answer to him before he finds it.

“Darkness,” she says out loud. She spits the word like a curse. “I felt...darkness. And...and... _power._ ”

Kylo Ren smiles slowly, coldly. “The dark side,” he murmurs, a smug satisfaction returning to his voice. “It calls you. I knew it... you can feel it calling you, even now, can't you? You are not as strong as you think you are.”

She shudders, and her throat clenches. She steels herself, keeping her focus just long enough to untangle his forsaken talons from her mind. She unhooks them one by one, extracting him from her thoughts as he glares at her.

“Why did you pull away from me like that?” she asks calmly, not allowing her voice to waver this time. “I saw it. You jumped back like you were in pain... what happened to you, Kylo?” She studies his face. “You felt something, too.”

His defenses are still down, and he knows it. She can't explain why she doesn't just reach into his mind and snatch the answer from him. He's so weak right now, she could probably flip through him like an open book, even as his eyes continue to blaze fury at her.

He doesn't answer her question.

Finally, she lets her mind touch his, cautiously, and he crumbles. _Light,_ she hears him think, and the word is pure agony. _The light... it tempts me... it calls me... Being in your presence tests me. I must be stronger. I must resist this!_

He takes a step forward, reaching a trembling hand out toward her again. A strange, wistful longing flashes in his eyes for an instant before he snatches his hand back, clenching his fist to his side in rage. _Weak!_ she hears him reproach himself. _Control yourself! You are Kylo Ren of the First Order... Resist. Resist this!_

And then, his defenses are back up. An iron gate slams in his mind, cutting her off from his thoughts, and he lunges at her, shoving her angrily against the wall. “You will regret this, scavenger,” he snarls, raising his hands to her throat. “I will... make you... regret... what you have done.”

She tilts her head back, closes her eyes and pictures her body radiating with light. She imagines the island, the waves and the stillness, the green moss and clear water crashing over smooth rocks. _Light._ She holds the image steady in her mind, and it floats in front of her like a delicate bubble, fragile and shimmering.

And then, she feels it again. Those dusky tendrils creeping in as she allows her anger to flow through her, that sweet and heady smoke enveloping her as her skin tingles with power. A terrible hunger unfurls within her, desire sinking roots into her mind as she draws the darkness in. It's at once horrifying and exhilarating. She can feel it hollowing her, subsuming her will, draining her, even as it fills her with more strength than she's ever felt. She gasps for breath, and a sound somewhere between despair and ecstasy escapes her lips as she struggles to hold it back –

She forces her eyes to open. Kylo Ren has both hands against her throat, and her own hands are clamped around his wrists; her knuckles are bone white, every muscle in her arms is strung tight. His eyes are distant, his cheeks flushed, his whole body shaking... not with the effort of holding her down, she realizes suddenly, but of pulling _back_. She's clasping _his_ hands – and he's pulling _away_ from her!

Appalled, she releases her grip on him. He loses his balance when she lets go, and he stumbles back. Instinctively, she leaps forward to catch him, her arms locking tightly around his body as she staggers under his weight. He slumps heavily onto her shoulder; she falls back against the wall.

“No,” he whispers, his face pressed into her hair. “No, no... you can't do this...” She's not sure if he's talking to himself or to her.

“Kylo – ”

“Rey.” He chokes out her name, one single, broken, desperate syllable, as thought the very sound of it is killing him.

“Kylo, what – what’re you – ” She's aghast to find that she can barely get any coherent words out.

“You want it,” he murmurs, “don't you. The darkness... Rey? You need it... you... _crave_ it?”

She doesn't answer him this time. She doesn't trust herself.

“I made... myself... strong,” he continues, his hoarse voice almost inaudible. “But you... with you... I can't resist it. The _light_ , Rey, the light... it calls to me... and I... I need...” He turns his head and looks at her, his body still slumped against hers. His eyes are two embers, shining with anguished desire.

Something cracks in her then, and she feels her defenses weakening alarmingly. She wants... what? She doesn't even know. She wants so much to touch that irresistible darkness, to feel it just one more time. She wants to draw it in, to feel it possess her completely, if only for an instant... and... she wants... _him_.

The very idea should be abhorrent, and yet she can't deny how strongly it grips her. Before she realizes what she's doing, she lifts her hand and brushes her fingers over his face, tracing the deep scar along his cheek – the angry, indelible mark that she herself inflicted, the day she left him for dead in the snow.

He takes in a ragged breath at her touch, and she feels his reaction clearly: first shock, then longing tinged with razor-sharp self-hatred, then a lick of hot fury. She braces herself, certain that he's about to strike her. But the next moment his mouth is over hers, and instead he's kissing her hungrily. She feels his anger dissolving back into longing... and then, she's kissing him back.

It's dizzying and intense, compelling and irresistible. It feels so unbelievably wrong, but so intoxicatingly _good._ She has never felt weaker, and yet she has never felt more invincible. The darkness in him rushes over her, floods her senses, fills her with that exhilarating power, and this time she doesn't resist it. She lets it burn hot through her veins, even as she senses him deliriously soaking up her light. She feels his body shiver as he draws in what he has denied himself, relinquishing his self-control.

As they pull each other closer, his mind unfolds to her without resistance, and she senses the _wanting_ in him, that all-consuming craving that mirrors her own. Both of them are desperate for a taste of the one thing they shouldn't want... both of them are wondering if they're already falling too far.

And then, she hears one single clear thought. It's impossible to be sure if it's hers or his. Maybe they both thought it at the same time.

_Just this once. You give in, I give in, so it evens out... Balance._

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely love the complexity of these two together, both as adversaries and as a beautiful angsty ship. I also definitely think there could be alternative outcomes to their arc that don't involve the redemption of Ben to the light side. Rey’s inevitable temptation by the dark side is something that hasn’t been explored yet in canon, but it’s surely going to happen. Contrasting Rey’s potential fall to the dark side with Kylo Ren’s constant battle against the light side makes perfect sense to me, having them mirror each other in so many ways.
> 
> [For the record, I don't think they’re related. I’m not sure what her lineage will turn out to be, but I’m leaning pretty hard toward team “Rey Kenobi” for the moment.]


End file.
